


Let's Remember

by orphan_account



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom
Genre: Harry Styles - Freeform, I Don't Even Know, Louis Tomlinson - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, larry stylinson - Freeform, sequel????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4268118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis' getting married. Harry wishes he would've said something. Louis wishes he could take it all back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Remember

There's a knock on Harry's apartment door at ten o'clock.  
It would've been different if it wasn't the fact that he was crying on his couch for the past two hours, going straight home after the formal dinner was done. Louis' fiance didn't want them partying, which Harry thought was pretty pathetic. Let the boy do what he wants. But, anyways, after dinner Harry came home, changing into baggy clothes that made him feel small, letting him curl up and feel young enough to be this upset over his best friend getting married while he looked through old photo albums of them when they were younger.  
Harry goes to the door, looking through the peephole. He sees Louis, his hair covering his forehead, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Harry glances into the mirror by the door; his eyes were still red. Shrugging, he opened the door, looking at Louis who slowly stood still.  
“What're you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at home?” Harry asked, stepping out of the way. He knew Louis would push his way through if he didn't move, anyways.  
Louis walked in, sliding his shoes off while Harry shut the door. “I told Sam that we had plans for tonight, and I didn't really give him a choice to say no.” Louis walked into the living room, plopping down on the couch. The album was still on the table. He picked it up slowly, glancing at the cover before looking over at Harry, who died a little more inside at how pathetic he felt. “Haz, c'mere, I wanna look through these with you.”  
Shocked, Harry walked over to the couch slowly, sitting down next to Louis, who opened the photo album. Harry looked down at the first picture – their first picture together. His finger traced on Louis' small two year old cheek in the photo, still very chubby and pushed out even more from the grin on his face.

*

“Mummy, wanna see the baby,” Louis whined, tugging at Jay's shirt. They were waiting at the hospital and had been waiting since Jay got the call that Anne was in labor. Louis and his mum had sat with Gemma in the waiting room while they waited for a nurse to come out, to call them back into the room.  
They were called back mere minutes after Louis stopped his whining, and Louis ran ahead of both Gemma and Jay, his little sneakers slapping against the tile in the hallway. When they all got to the room, Louis went in first, hopping up and down excitedly. Jay told him to calm down, lifting him up before sitting in the chair. They'd gone over it – if Louis wanted to hold Harry, he had to sit in his mum's lap so she could help support the baby's head and whatnot.  
When Harry was carried over by Des, Louis had his eyes fixed on the newborn's pink face. Jay helped guide Louis' arms, gently resting her hand under Harry's head to hold it up gently, Louis' arm curling around his back.  
“Why does he look so funny?” Louis asked Anne, who was brushing Gemma's hair back from where they were laying on the hospital bed.  
Anne smiled, watching Louis, whose eyes were now directed back down at Harry. “Because, this is all new to him right now, Lou.” Louis nodded a little, giggling when Harry tried to grab at his hand. That's when the picture was taken by Des, who promised Jay he'd print out another copy.  
From that day forward Louis protected Harry.

*

Sometime during Harry's thoughts Louis' arm had curled around him, and he was now snuggled into the older boy's side, his arms curling around his stomach. The photo album was flipped to the next page, both of them commenting on pictures of Louis' first day of school, Harry whining and crying that day because he didn't get to go with him.  
“Things were so simple then, and all I wanted to do was grow up,” Louis whispered after a few seconds, biting down on his lower lip. Harry nodded a little, closing his eyes. He wished he could go back, hold onto Louis longer before he had to let him go again. If only he had a warning this would happen one day, maybe he wouldn't have picked stupid fights over food or video games with Louis. Maybe he would've spoken his mind those times Louis asked for his opinion on Sam, or on other things. Maybe...  
Harry's thoughts cut off when Louis tightened his arm around Harry, pointing at one of the pictures of them after a football game. Harry was six, Louis was eight. Louis had started playing football the year before, and sure enough Harry went to all of his games. If they would've used cheerleaders back then, you could bet Harry would've been cheering on the sidelines, for Louis.  
“I remember that game,” Harry said softly, sliding his sleeves over his hands. “Fizzy was born like two minutes after it ended, right?”  
Louis nodded in response, sighing softly. “Yeah, she was,” he said softly, looking down at Harry, who was still staring at the picture of them smiling together.

*

Louis kicked the last goal, but it wasn't really counted. In his mind, it was being counted, and his team won. For being young, he was very competitive when it came to football; he always played games with Harry because the younger boy always lost. He grinned, running over to the sidelines when the game was counted as officially over. Harry was waiting for him.  
“You're all sweaty,” Harry giggled, but curled his arms around Louis anyways, tucking his face into his neck. Louis grinned, wrapping his arms around Harry tightly. It was always nice to have his Harry after the games were over.  
Anne came up to them with little Lottie, smiling softly. “I think your mum wants us at the hospital soon, Lou,” Anne said softly.  
Louis nodded a little, slowly pulling away from Harry, keeping his hand on his back. “I'm gonna go say bye to coach,” he said, running off. Harry's eyes followed him, sighing out happily. Anne watched her son watch his best friend. They were so young, already so close together that Anne was scared what could happen one day. What if they split off into different directions? They both excluded almost every other person in their classes because they felt like they would pull them apart. She didn't want either of them to be lost without the other, but it was already like that.  
Harry adored Louis. Louis adored Harry. Harry always looked up to Louis, wearing similar clothes, watching the same shows and movies, listening to the same types of music. Louis always tried to protect Harry; when they walked together in recess, if a flying ball from the kickball court came their way Louis deflected it, kicking it back before it could hurt Harry. They were the perfect team. Anne was just scared that would end too soon.

*

Harry flipped the pages, Louis making comments at different pictures - “That bowl cut was horrible.”, “Why'd I ever let you wear that shirt? That was terrible.” - and Harry giggling into his hand at them, shaking his head slightly. Reluctantly, Harry looked up at the clock. It was almost midnight by the time they got to pictures when Harry was fourteen and Louis was sixteen. Harry never knew why he kept these. They always brought so many memories, and he didn't need them when in less than twenty-four hours Louis would never be his again.  
Louis looked at one of the pictures, a crappy digital one that was blurred and spotty from the darkness of Harry's room that night. The night they were the closest they'd ever been. “Do you remember what happened?” Louis asked quietly, looking at their baby faces in the picture.  
With a nod, Harry exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I remember,” he whispered, curling up a little more into Louis' side, scared his arm was going to drop and he was going to leave. He couldn't leave, not now.  
“I didn't think-”  
“Louis, stop, you've apologized, like, twenty times, I told you it was fine and that I don't regret it,” Harry said, looking up from the photo album for the first time. He realized he hadn't been the only one upset about looking at these. Louis' eyes were rimmed with red, glassy as he sniffed. “It happened for a reason.”

*

Harry was confused. So terribly, fucking confused. At gym that past week, all week, he couldn't help but stare in the locker room during showers. He got teased for it, but everyone just laughed it off. Harry couldn't laugh truly, he just forced one and tried to tear his gaze away. Everything was so steamy and the other guys looked so defined and tan and just – even thinking about it now made Harry hot.  
It was the usual weekend sleepover, the first night, and this week it was at Harry's house. Even now that Louis was in high school, was sixteen, and Harry was still in middle school, fourteen, they still were as close as ever. They were curled up under the blankets on the ground in Harry's room, watching a random movie on Harry's small tv, until Louis put it on mute, looking over at Harry.  
“You've been off all day, Haz. What's wrong?” Louis asked, sitting up a little. He frowned when Harry looked away, staring at the darkness where a wall would be if it was lighter in the room. “C'mon, Haz, talk to me. You know you can tell me anything.”  
Harry sighed softly, looking back up at Louis, a little spark of something running through him at Louis leaning over him. “The guys at my school are really, really hot, Lou,” Harry mumbled, pouting his lip out a little. “And I know it's not wrong to be gay or anything, but it's just... different. I know you're bi and stuff but I just – I don't know what I am or why I'm feeling these... these things.”  
A frown made its way to Harry's lips as Louis smiled, shaking his head. “Hey, Haz, it's okay. You can feel those things. It may take some experimenting to figure out what exactly you're feeling. It happens. It's normal. You're fourteen, for fuck's sake,” he said, leaning down to kiss Harry on the cheek.  
There it went again. That little spark, right when Louis kissed him. Harry bit down on his lip roughly, tugging on Louis' arm. “What am I supposed to do when I get a boner?” he mumbled. Louis always said he could come to him for advice on things like this – Harry hoped he wouldn't back out on him now.  
“Well, uh,” Louis said, biting his lip as he thought, coughing a little. “I can't really explain it that well, I guess you just touch it different ways until it feels good? Like rubbing, and then you can wrap your hand around it, and then there are tons of different ways to do other things but I don't think we want to get into that now, some other time.”  
Harry huffed quietly, shifting uncomfortably. “I have one now, what do I do about that?” he asked, sliding his hand down his own chest.   
This little shit knows exactly what he's doing, was Louis' first thought as Harry looked up at him, pushing the blankets down off of him slowly, his hand grazing over his own crotch as he let out a gasp. But then again...  
Harry furrowed his eyebrows a little when Louis moved to hover over him, pulling Harry's shirt up a little. Harry moved his hands up, pressing them to Louis' chest, a breath escaping him when Louis shoved them back to the ground gently, holding Harry down successfully. Not like he was going to move, anyways. “What are you do-”  
Louis just wanted him to stop talking. He didn't think he'd really kiss him, but with his lips smashed against Harry's, he thought maybe this wouldn't be so bad. It probably wouldn't even change anything, just help from one friend to another.  
Harry gasped again as Louis started rubbing against him, continuing to kiss the younger boy as he was grinding against him. Louis groaned lowly as Harry let out high-pitched whines, panting into Louis' mouth as he tried to move up against him, his whole body trembling. It felt so good, Harry had never thought doing this or anything remotely like getting off would feel so good.  
They rutted against each other, Harry's gasps matching with Louis' moans. After mere minutes, Harry gasped out Louis' name, moaning as he came into his sweatpants. Louis would've lasted just as long but Harry was twitching against him and it was all just too much.  
After calming down, Louis looked over at Harry. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin that for you,” he said quietly, staring at the boy, who was still panting, his face flushed and his eyes droopy.  
“Didn't ruin anything, Lou, wanted it like that,” Harry mumbled after a few seconds, curling closer to Louis. They kissed again; that was the last time they kissed – they never brought up what happened again.

*

Harry had somehow made his way into Louis' lap at this point, resting his head against his shoulder. Since that day Harry had been in love with his best friend. Sure, he'd kissed other boys, and one girl, but it never felt the same. Nothing felt like Louis. And Harry, of course, had no idea what Louis felt, or what he was feeling now.  
Louis felt like absolute shit. He couldn't imagine what Harry felt, just weeks after that happened, that Louis had a girlfriend – which didn't turn out well, mind you, but that's besides the point. And then it all came crashing down. He loved his best friend, and he was getting married in less than a day.  
It wasn't supposed to be this way, not at all. Harry knew that from the beginning, wanted to tell Louis that he wasn't going to propose to Sam, wasn't going to get married to him. That he was going to marry Harry like he was supposed to. Fuck.  
Harry got up, rubbing at his eyes a little before grabbing the photo album, shutting it. “I think you should go, it's getting late,” he said shakily after putting the album away. “Long day tomorrow. Today, rather.” He went over to the door, coughing against the back of his hand when he felt a sob start coming up. The lump in his throat was huge. He felt like puking and then curling up in a ball and never leaving his apartment again. Maybe he'd just go home to his mum, or go move in with Gemma...  
Harry stood facing the door, sniffling when Louis' arms slowly wound around his waist from behind. It felt so normal, but this was the first time in a long time that Harry had felt Louis' arms around him.  
“This wasn't supposed to play out like this,” Louis mumbled against Harry's shoulder, leaning up a little to reach it. His fingers rested on Harry's lower stomach, his eyes shutting. “I shouldn't be with Sam.”  
Harry let out a sad, pathetic laugh, coming out with some spit before a sob. “Kinda late for that, Lou,” he said, shaking his head. “Kinda really late for that.”  
Louis sighed softly, shaking his head a little. “We have tonight. And whatever happens tomorrow, or any day after that, we'll have then.”

They ended up in Harry's bed, curling up in a cocoon of blankets, Harry trying not to cry into Louis' shoulder every moment he thought about tomorrow, which was a lot. But after a while, Harry just decided, fuck it. He pushed Louis down onto his back gently, climbing on top of him to straddle him. They had the night, what was left of it. So what if they were tired during the wedding?  
Harry rested his hands on Louis' chest, looking down at him. “This isn't fucking fair, you asshole,” he mumbled, leaning down to rest his forehead against Louis'. “You shouldn't be getting married tomorrow, and if you are you should be marrying me.”  
Louis sighed softly, his hands finding their way to Harry's hips, holding them gently. “I'm so stu-”  
This time Harry got to cut Louis off. He leaned down, pressing his lips to Louis' gently, his eyes shutting slowly, their lips moving softly and gently together, not too slow but not rushing anything. Just... just right, what they both needed. Each other; nothing more, nothing less. And Harry was content with that at the moment, his fingers curling into Louis' loose shirt.  
After God knows how long, Harry slumped forward onto Louis' chest, crying into his neck. It wasn't fucking fair. Louis tried thinking of something to say, but what was he going to say? He couldn't just leave Sam, it wasn't that easy with all the time they've invested into everything. But he couldn't just leave Harry behind.  
“It was always you,” he whispered after Harry fell asleep, pressing a kiss to his head before leaning over carefully to shut the light off.

The next morning, Harry was quiet. Just quiet. He looked so lifeless; his hair was limp, his face droopy, aging him another five, ten years. Louis stayed quiet too, figuring Harry would say what he wanted to say, if anything.  
When it's almost time for Louis to leave, Harry smiles sadly, looking at him with emotionless eyes. “Put your hair up the way you did back at that party.” Harry didn't even have to specify; Louis knew. Louis always knew.  
“I love you,” Louis whispered slowly, pulling Harry to him with his hands on his waist. “This'll work out how it needs to, and things will be the way they should be. I promise, Haz.”  
Harry sniffled, curling his arms around Louis, pressing his face into his neck. “Sam's one lucky bastard,” he mumbled, Louis laughing sadly at the comment. “You're gonna look great today, and I'm not gonna be able to keep my eyes off of you.”  
Louis smiled sadly, shaking his head slightly. “You're gonna look the best.”

And that day, Louis got married. Harry cried in the bathroom at the reception hall. Louis drank his woes away. Harry sat at the groomsmen table, faked smiles and laughs, gave the best fucking toast that night. And after the reception, Louis went off with Sam, on their stupid honeymoon where Louis complained to be sick so they didn't do anything together. Harry stayed home, alone in his apartment, hoping that fate would twist something so it'd work out and he'd be with Louis.  
One day, maybe it would. But for now they were stuck talking on the phone just like things were normal, no one giving away that anything was wrong. Maybe Harry would just stop feeling one day.


End file.
